


Why Won't You Speak (Standing Cowardly)

by ThePancakePenguin



Series: Mindful Education [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Hearing Voices, Josh's Blurryface, Josh-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePancakePenguin/pseuds/ThePancakePenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's funny how even in a two-piece band, the drummer is still overlooked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Won't You Speak (Standing Cowardly)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first work I've ever posted online. 
> 
> As a percussionist who deals with anxiety, I feel a very personal connection to Josh and how he uses playing as an escape. It bothers me that his issues aren't acknowledged as much, so I vented here.
> 
> Title from "Trees" by twenty one pilots. Enjoy.
> 
> (This wasn't intended to be Joshler, but it can be interpreted as such. Jenna and Tyler are still married and very much in love though. Also, Josh and Jenna are friends and you can fight me if you think otherwise.)

They're at another interview, the name of the radio station too long for him to remember off the top of his head. Tyler was telling another story of how they met. Something about a pet store robbery gone wrong. He'd been going on for a while now, and Josh only started paying attention near the end of it.

"And Josh just looked so heroic pulling those bunnies out, that I had to go up to him, and I was like 'Do you do music,' and he was like 'Yeah I do drums,' and so I was like 'Let's start a band!' And so we high-fived, and we hugged, and most of the songs we've written are actually about that first meeting." Tyler ended his tale with a light giggle, looking over at his friend sitting at the table beside him. No matter how much he denied it, Tyler was the better storyteller of the two. He always spoke a bit poetically, and he knew Josh didn't feel as comfortable talking in interviews, so he usually directed the attention more to himself. It gave Josh the ability to speak only when he wanted to, for the most part.

The interviewer smiled before asking her next question. "Is there an artist, living or dead, that you want to collaborate with, and have they inspired any of your music?"

Tyler leaned back slightly in his seat before giving his answer. "Yeah, actually. There's this one drummer that I've been looking forward to collaborating with, and I actually got the chance to work with them this year." He glanced at Josh before continuing. "They've been a big influence on how I write, and for our next album, if I get the chance to work with them _again?_ " He gave a dreamy sigh. "Josh is a pretty big fan of their work to."

That made Josh startle. He knew Tyler was talking about him, but the way he said it-"this one drummer"- like he was talking about someone else, was making him anxious. Before he could stop himself, his mind started to go into overdrive, making his heart race.  _ **You aren't the only drummer in the world. Tyler can have anyone in the band, you aren't special. You're expendable. He doesn't even need a drummer; he could do this by himself. He can kick you out whenever he wants, it won't change anything. What are you even doing here you shouldn't be he-**_

"Josh?" A hand on his leg under the table, pulling him out of his own mind. He blinked and looked up, finding all eyes in the room on him. The interviewer was trying to keep her face neutral to avoid any more awkwardness, but that only made things worse. Tyler hand was still on his leg, and he didn't seem to inclined to move it. His dark eyes were filled with things like "What's wrong?" and "You're okay."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm a little sleepy. Tyler was kicking my butt at Mario Kart, so I was up all night practicing," Josh lied with a light huff, scrubbing his eyes for good measure.

The interviewer laughed. "Do you two play Mario Kart often?" Tyler took Josh's bluff in stride, explaining game nights on the bus, ignoring the fact that Josh immediately climbed into his bunk after the show last night and didn't move until an hour before sound check.

When the interview was finally over, Josh made his way to their car a little too quickly. The voice in his head was still there, muttering about how many replacements there are in the world. Before he open the door to the backseat, he feels a hand brush up his arm and settle on his shoulder.

Tyler doesn't say anything, just stands there with his hand on Josh's shoulder. He's trying to offer comfort, and it's clear he wants to ask about what happened, but he remains silent. Josh shrugs his hand off, climbing into the car, pulling his phone and headphones out. Tyler slides next to him, finally opening his mouth before Josh can escape.

"I'm right here."

He doesn't know which voice he heard made the phrase sting.

 

* * *

 

It's been three weeks since the interview. He couldn't remember where they were going, just that he and Tyler were alone. It would've been peaceful, but Tyler was aware that Josh wasn't really there walking beside him. The voice won't shut up. It hasn't been screaming at him like it had been, but its constant whispering in the back of his head made it difficult to focus. Which is probably why neither of them noticed the two girls approaching them until one gave a breathless "hi."

The other girl's voice was a bit steadier. "Oh my gosh, hi. We know you're probably trying to get somewhere, but we just wanted to thank you guys, and maybe get a picture? We love your music so much!" Tyler smiled and looked to Josh. "Yeah, I don't see why not." One of the girls pulled out her phone, giggling with excitement. "Mary, you want me to take yours first?"The other girl smiled brightly, going to Tyler and reaching out. Tyler put an arm around her.

**_See the fans don't even like you, they only care about the words what do you have to do with that?_ **

The girls turned and asked "Can I get it with both of you actually?" Josh nods and goes to her other side before the voice can tell him it's out of pity.

They take a picture with the other girl, and afterwards she pulls two papers out of her bag. "This is pure luck, but we just finished our classes, so I have some stuff with me." She turns the papers over, and Josh can't really believe what he sees. "I know it's super lame, but could you guys sign these? Your music has really helped me pursue my dream to be an artist, and it would mean so much to me."

They each take one, and Tyler inspects his with amazement, complimenting the fan's artistic ability. As Tyler takes the pen he's offered to sign it, the other girl, Mary, gets a little closer to Josh. "Addie deals with a lot of anxiety," she tells him quietly. "You guys have helped her a lot. She wouldn't have even wanted to say hi to you guys a few years ago. She's grown so much."

Josh is trying to pay attention to her, he really is, but he can't stop staring at the paper he's holding. It was him, crawling on his hands and knees, covered in what was most likely blood. It was leaking from his eyes, dripping from his hands, staining a tightly clasped, broken drumstick. Words were scrawled all over, sentences mixing together to form a frenzied jumble. Josh tried to take a step back, remember that a fan used his and Tyler's music to work through an issue, and while it may be disturbing, he was in no position to judge, and he should be proud of them **_but why would they care about drawing you what do you even do you aren't important they don't care about you you're wor-_**

"Are you okay?" Josh is snapped back to reality. The other girl is holding out a pen for him. She looks embarrassed. **_You_** _ **make them feel bad about their hard work no wonder they hate you.**  _He reaches for the pen, trying to avoid looking at the art. He tries to pretend he can't feel Tyler's stare burning his back.

Josh somehow is able to steady his hand enough to put down his signature, apologizing and telling the girl he loves the art and that she has a lot of talent. Her worry seems to be eased by that, and the two fans leave and wish them a good day. Josh is looking everywhere except for where Tyler is standing next to him, telling him "I'm fine," before the singer gets the chance to ask.

Josh is fine.

 

* * *

 

Tyler had begun writing, and it was taking a toll on him. Josh was doing everything he could to help him, but that only seemed to make his distress increase. Which was ridiculous. Why should Tyler be worried about  _him?_ So what Josh was still awake at three a.m. when they had a show the next day? So was Tyler. He might as well drink another Redbull and keep Tyler company while he brainstorms. It shouldn't matter that Josh isn't talking that much; Josh isn't the one who needs to preserve his voice. If Tyler isn't well, they might have to cancel a show, anyone can cover for Josh if he gets sick. The fans don't come for Josh,  _ **they don't ca-**_

"Josh? Have you seen Tyler?" Josh looks up from where he's curled up on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest, giving him a good view of Tyler's name tattooed on his knee. Tracing the ink embedded in the skin all over his body keeps him calm when his mind is racing, which is what he was doing before Jenna called out for him from the doorway of the bus.

Jenna joined them on tour last week, and Josh and the rest of the crew couldn't be more thankful. While having friends around for support was always an essential for Tyler during the writing process, Jenna was able to calm him down faster and for longer than anyone, letting his ideas become clearer. Josh used to be able to do that, but recently, it hasn't been working too well. Not that Josh was jealous. Why _wouldn't_ Tyler's wife be able to do things Josh couldn't do. He's only a friend.  ** _Jenna's the only one who can help him he doesn't need y-_**

_"Josh!"_

The drummer shook his head. He'd spaced out. Again. Jenna was in front of him now. She looked worried. Josh was getting worried too.

Josh ran a hand through his dulling hair. "I'm sorry Jenna. I'm just tired, it's hard to focus right now." He shifted his gaze to the back studio. "I think he's in there. He's probably writing right now." Tyler liked to be left alone at the beginning stages of an idea. He said it helped the idea get a foundation before he started building upon it. But sometimes he didn't know when he needed to take a break from it before he stretched himself too thin.

Jenna nodded and walked to the door of the studio, but stopped and turned back to Josh before she went inside.

"He's worried about you. I am too," she said tentatively, like she wasn't sure she should be telling him. "He wants to help you, but..." She sighed, having a difficult time getting her words out. "Josh, you're my friend too, and I don't want to make you anymore upset, but you haven't really been talking to him. He doesn't know how to help you and that's....it's scaring us." She took a deep breath before continuing. "We don't want to push you if we don't have to, but something is wrong, and you aren't getting help. Please don't be afraid to talk to us." With that, she entered the studio, leaving Josh sitting numbly on the couch.

**_Look what you're doing to him. Get it together._ **

****

* * *

 

Josh had been less closed off after his talk with Jenna, much to Tyler's relief. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. Instead of opening up, Josh was trying to act like nothing was wrong, and that only seemed to make things worse. It was like Josh tried to stitch up his tears, but it only resulted in an even more worried Tyler and infected wounds that were painful to look at. 

Eventually, that string started to unravel.

Now, despite getting no sleep the night before, Josh was behind his kit in front of thousands of people. His anxiety seemed to be peaking at its highest in the three months after its sudden ambush at the interview. He was playing hard enough to make Tyler and the rest of the crew start to worry about the durability of his drums. The show was mainly passing as a blur, memory being the only thing keeping Josh from getting lost in his own head at a sold out arena. These people were here because of the music, and he wasn't going to ruin that for them. His rapidly beating heat and stuttering breath would have to wait.

By the time "Ride" started, Josh remembered he'd have to leave the sanctuary of his stage kit and have all eyes and cameras on him. The cold shower of dread washing over him caused him to miss a few beats. The fans probably didn't notice or think anything of his screw up, but Tyler gave him a sideways glace as he sauntered over to the microphone, his stage persona briefly slipping.

 _ **Careful, there's nothing stopping him from ending the show to kick you out of the band in front of everyone**  _the voice hissed, nearly making him miss his cue to stop for the bridge.

As Tyler sang at his piano, he watched Josh make his way to the edge of the stage with shaky legs. He remained on high alert as Josh struggled to climb on top of his platform.

When the spotlight landed on Josh, he almost stumbled. He closed his eyes to avoid the glare, but the darkness started to make the cheers of the crowd fade, and he was forced to open them again. He needed to focus. he couldn't afford to mess this up. If he did, everything would be over. His friendship with Tyler, his career, his dream,  _ **your li-**_

He shakes his head, cutting off that train of thought and signaling Tyler. He starts clicking his sticks and stomping the pedal of his kick drum, and the roar of the crowd grows impossibly louder. The cacophony starts to make his ears ring and his head pound, like his kick drum was behind his skull instead of in front of him. He feels his arms turn into lead and his legs turn into jell-o and his vision get fuzzy and everything begins to slow like time is swimming through honey and now he's floating, and the screams start to sound terrified instead of excited before they fade out completely, and everything is too bright and he feels an uneven impact on his front before he's launched into blackness.

The empty void seems more appealing than Tyler's scream for him anyway.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in three months, everything is silent. All he sees is darkness, and he feels nothing. It's the most peaceful he's ever been.

Before it was calm, there was a constant shifting. It had started chaotic, but had settled to methodical push and pull, a lift and drop, and then it stopped altogether. Dull sounds would echo across the space, some almost familiar, but they faded over time. Sometimes the darkness would lift a little before surrounding him again with it's deep, unending emptiness.

Josh could stay here forever.

Eventually, he starts to feel an ache, spreading across his entire body. His surroundings become softer and more solid, and there's something cool and damp on his head. The dark silence hasn't left, but these new sensations are coming from nowhere, like the constant receding and returning pressure in his hand. He registers a quiet murmuring building, barely heard over the waves of exhaustion crashing over him. He doesn't understand what's happening, so he lets the darkness fade away.

As soon as Josh opens his eyes, he regrets it. _Now_ he remembers what happened. He passed out. In front of thousands of people, most of who no doubt got it on video. He ruined the show, and his reputation as a "hardcore" drummer.

_**Pathetic.** _

The return of his tormentor has every muscle in his body tensing, making him squeeze the hand grasping his own.

"Josh? Guys, he's awake!" Of _course_ it's Tyler holding his hand. Josh isn't even going to try to understand the kind of emotions that thought has made flare right now, he's overloaded as it is. Then there's more noise and he's being forced to sit up from the couch he was laying on, making him groan. He's handed a water bottle and instructed to drink it slowly by someone from the medical staff at the venue. He sips it in silence, letting everything else fade into the background now that he has something to focus on.

Eventually, the only other person in the room now is Tyler. Any other day, he would've been relieved. But now, Tyler is the last person he wants to talk to. Because Tyler wants answers he can't give, and Josh not being able to answer will make Tyler more upset, and Josh ruining the show **_was the last straw it's ov-_**

"Dehydration and exhaustion. That's why you passed out," Tyler informed him quietly, like he was trying not to startle a frightened animal. It wasn't that far from the truth. "The crowd caught you, stopped you from getting hurt too bad. Security pulled the drums out before trying to get you so no one would be crushed. The fans helped you get to the barrier before you got too roughed up. Nobody was hurt.

 ** _Physically,_** the voice sneers, or maybe it was Josh who said that out loud, because Tyler's head snapped up. He looked ready to deny it, but stopped short, instead breathing deeply through his nose before continuing. "You're right, Josh. I always said you passing out would make the greatest show ever, but I was so wrong. Me, the crew, the fans, we were terrified. You could've been hurt, or worse. Which is why we need to make sure this doesn't ever happen again."

Josh tensed again.  _Oh no._

"Josh you need to talk to me. Don't you dare try to brush this off, there's a reason you haven't been taking care of yourself for so long. And I want to help you, that's my job." Tyler's voice sounds exasperated, and he's gesturing in the way he does when he's trying to get his point across. "We're best friends, we're supposed to trust each other with these things. You've helped  _so_ much, what's making you think I won't help you too?" He scrubs his face. Is he _crying?_ Did _Josh_ cause that? "Josh,  I want to help you, but...but I don't know _how._ You aren't _letting_ me."

**_This is your fault. You did this to him. How could you?_ **

"Josh, I just _don't_ _know what to do."_

 _ **Here it comes.**_ Before he can stop himself, Josh lets the words slip past his wall in desperation.

"Please don't kick me out of the band."

Tyler freezes on the couch, and he slowly lifts his head out of his hands before releasing a soft, confused, "What?"

The hairline cracks become wider, and then the dam bursts. "Please don't kick me out. I know there are other drummers that are better than me and I know that I barely contribute to the band and that the fans don't really like me and I'm not the only one you have, but this band is _everything_ to me and if I don't have this I don't know what will happen to me so if you give me a chance I can show you how much I can help and that I'm more than a drummer and I'll talk more in interviews and the fans will like me and you'll still like me and-" he has to stop for air, but his now hysterical sobbing is making it difficult for him to even keep talking. He's vaguely aware of Tyler's hands grasping his shoulders, and his voice is floating over his ears but he can't make out the words, lost in relief of the pressure behind his walls releasing.

It feels like an eternity, but the torrent does shrink to a trickle. His breathing is still shaky and the tears leaking from his eyes are colored red from his stage makeup, making dark stains on Tyler white shirt and shoulder. The singer doesn't seem to care about how gross Josh's face is right now, still holding the drummer against his side.

"I will repeat this as many times as you need me to, but I still want you to listen to me right now. Can you do that for me?" After an affirmative hum, Tyler went on. "You are one of the most important people in my life, Josh. Even if I had everyone else, I would still be lost if I didn't have you. This dream we're living, you may not have been at the start of it, but you've made it your own. No one in the entire world wants you out of this band, especially not me. You could be a professional kazoo player and I'd still want you with me. Because you're Josh Dun. What you do with me? It saves lives. You've saved theirs, and you've saved mine. You could never speak another word into a microphone, but I want you to know that what you do have to say is still important. It's important to them, and it's important to me. It's okay for you to feel, it's okay to have issues. You aren't a machine, Josh, you're _human._ More importantly, you're my best friend, and you always will be. Okay?"

The exhausted drummer nodded and pressed his face into the other's neck with a whispered "Thank you."

Tyler let Josh's head fall into his lap, his painted hands carding soothingly through his friend's pink hair. He began to hum some of their own music, both of them finding it relaxing. It broke Tyler's heart to see his friend like this, as these times were few and far in between, but all they could do now was let Josh get some rest, something neither man rejected.

 

* * *

 

They probably thought Josh fell asleep.

To be fair, he was wading through the pool between slumber and wakefulness, so there was a chance this was a dream. Tyler's hand was still in his hair, gently scratching his scalp, and that's all that really mattered to him at the moment.

"How's he doing?" a voice-Jenna?-asked softly. While she didn't sound upset, having someone else's head besides her own in her husband's lap must've been strange. But then again, Jenna never really seemed to question much about what he and Tyler did, accepting that it was simply the way they were with each other. It's not like Josh wasn't her friend too.

"He's better, now that he let it all out. Or, he'll get there, at least," Tyler responded just as gently.

"We'll help him get there."

"Of course."

They both sounded so sure, and Josh couldn't help but believe it too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have an idea for a sequel. I might post it later.
> 
> Yell at me on tumblr and intagram @thepancakepenguin


End file.
